


Made and Broken

by QuintessenceA



Series: Made and Broken [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst and Tragedy, Everyone is Dead, M/M, Oops, Rape/Non-con Elements, Worst-Case Scenario Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessenceA/pseuds/QuintessenceA
Summary: Alternate Title- "I broke a skeleton and then watched in horror as he murdered the entire cast."This is it, chapter 2 is my ticket to Hell for crimes against Sanses. I'm sorry.This is a Make or Break alternate timeline, directly following chapter 17. Red's son Gothic has finally snapped, and it's Bad.Gothic and Lombok belong to the amazing MsBigBoots, go check her stuff out!!
Relationships: Sans (Underfell)/Gothic
Series: Made and Broken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576882
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Dovetail

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gothic and Lombok](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971914) by [msbigboots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbigboots/pseuds/msbigboots). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% spoiler for Make or Break. If you just want the horrible parts, hit chapter 2.
> 
> If you don't want to read Make or Break, here's the tl:dr-
> 
> Red and Edge's Fell Pap looking son Lombok (a real good guy) just rescued the reversible, nonverbal scarecrow Jute and Burlap after they unsuccessfully tried to kill his twin Gothic (a less good guy).

As they dropped out of Gothic's shortcut, Lombok felt Jute pull free of his grip before he collapsed to the ground. They were in their parent's house, the garish zigzag carpet inches from his face. His skull was buzzing. Something was wrong, very wrong with him. His neck ached, the back of his jaw burning with pain. Was he sick? Everything before the Judgemebt Hall was a blur.

"Lombok, holy shit, are you ok?" Gothic asked grabbing his arm. Lombok nodded, unable to respond. He tried to cough, but nothing happened. Lombok reached out and Gothic took his hand, helping him to his feet. The motion was awkward, as Gothic pulled with his off hand. 

He tried to let his concern show as he grabbed for Gothic's injured arm, but Gothic pulled it away harshly. Lombok didn't have to be a Judge to see the shame on his face.

A small, scared cry of, "No!", drew their attention. 

Jute stood by the stairs, his hands inside his shirt. That sound was definitely not him. Not with that expression on his face. Jute was angry. Had it been the-

"You bastard!" Gothic screamed. Lombok threw an arm across Gothic's chest, gripping his ribs before he could go after the scarecrow. "It was you? You're the one that betrayed the masks? Why? Why would you want to sabotage the resistance?"

Jutes face twisted from anger to rage, the seams of his face pulsing. "No-no-no!" The call came again, only to fall silent as he brought his hands out of his shirt to sign. 

_The Masks are not a resistance! They're a pack!_ He was shouting, shoulders set and hands flying wildly. _Following the strongest, with no thought beyond who can hit the hardest! That was never going to save us!_

"Yes it was! Asgore was going to be dead before the month was over! You know that, you helped plan it!"

You may kill Asgore, yes, but then what? What is your plan? At least Asgore has structure! You would have us dissolve into anarchy, every monster for themselves!

 _But that's not a problem for you, is it? You're a strong monster, raised by strong monsters, living in the company of strong monsters! It's all you know! What about us? The small, the weak, the- shoe._

His hands stuttered on the last word. Not shoe, Lombok realized. The sign was unfinished. He was going to say broken. 

_We live,_ Jute continued, looking between the two of them, _and we die, and we fear! And there are so, so many more of us than there are you. You are a failure. Neither of you have saved anyone, you've simply slowed our death. What's this supposed to be Mercy? You're just dragging out our torture!_

He shook, his whole body trembling with rage as he focused on Gothic directly. _You ruined EVERYTHING. There is no hope now. Just kill us. I know you want to, it's written all over your face._

Lombok stared, eye sockets wide. He couldn't force anything more than a wheeze past his broken throat. Distantly, he remembered the cookies Delilah had given him. Had she done this to him? 

His look turned pleading. His sign speak was garbage at best, but maybe… He brought up his hands. _Not true. Burlap knows-_

 _No! You're not allowed to speak to her!_ Jute signed, turning his head.

Confusion made Lombok pull back. What did that mean?

"Bro," Gothic said softly. Lombok looked at him, but Gothic's attention was on Jute, his eye lights burning with wispy magic. "If he can't see you, she can't see you. They're the same monster. We'd all been pranking you. Thought you'd figure it out eventually."

Jute had turned so that Lombok couldn't see his eyes. Lombok couldn't help but notice that he wasn't letting Gothic out of his sight. 

Jute's other hand came up. _Please, no! Don't do this-_

He gripped his arm, fingers digging into the fabric hard enough that Lombok could hear the straw inside cracking. The words stopped. He released his arm again.

 _You were never going to win._ Jute signed to Gothic. _You were the plague doctor for years, and what did you accomplish? All you did was terrify the populace while the Monarchy continued to destroy everything! I tried to help you, but you were too stubborn. You are a failure._ He stood up straighter, lifting his chin defiantly . _That's why I told the guard where to find Shuck._

Lombok saw the tension in his brother's body peak a moment before Gothic snapped. Jute made no move to defend himself as Gothic launched himself forward with a scream, a bone construct forming in his hand. Lombok was already moving, tackling Gothic around the middle and pulling him to the ground.

"Let me go!" Gothic shrieked, striking Lombok with the club he now held as he fought to break free. "I'll kill them! I'll kill them! Let me kill them!"

Lombok shook his head, holding tightly. He didn't summon a bone, or draw a knife. He didn't do anything but kneel on the ground, clutching his brother to his chest.

"…erc!" he tried to say, trying desperately to form the word. Whatever had been poisoned with was getting weaker, but it wasn't fading fast enough.

"No, no! Don't you dare!" Gothic snarled, shoving him with his bad arm. The club came down again, this time on Lombok's skull. It took with it enough hit points to stagger him, and Gothic pulled free.

The club sharpened into a short sword as he stood, his eye lights locked onto Jute.

"Erc-ercy!" Lombok whispered, leaning forward to grab Gothic's ankle. He could feel Gothic shaking. But he didn't let go, and Gothic didn't pull himself free.

Gothic stared straight at Jute, his entire body tense. Jute only stared back, arms crossed once more. His gaze was cold, calculating. Completely unintimidated by the powerful monster trying to kill him. Gothic's voice was quiet as he asked, "…why?"

"M-mercy," Lombok tried again, the word coming out stronger. "Please."

Gothic glared at him, his fangs pulling into a snarl.

"For them?! All these fucking years, and you finally ask my Mercy for THEM? TELL ME WHY!" Gothic shouted, yanking his leg free. He spun around, using the motion to kick Lombok in the chest. Lombok was too sturdy to be knocked down, but he let himself fall on his back as Gothic dropped down onto him. Gothic's knees were on either side of his waist as he grabbed a fist full of his shirt. Lombok's skull bounced roughly off the carpet as Gothic shook him. 

"It's THEIR fault! Can't you see that? Because of them Shuck is dead! They turned him in, and Papyrus killed him! There's no Mercy for that!"

"No." Lombok tried to shake his head. "Not Pops. Me."

"You? But, in the woods you said..." Gothic stopped, looking Lombok straight in the eye sockets. His voice went hard. "No, you didn't say, did you? Finish your sentence Lombok. You what?"

"I'm sorry," Lombok said, choking on more than just the poison. "I killed Shuck."

He wanted to say he hadn't meant to kill him. That it was an accident, because it was, but he'd known all along that the dog monster was slated for death. He'd gone to the interrogation anyway.

If he'd only known then what he knew now.

Gothic stared at him, the light in them dimming slightly. It reminded Lombok of a time, long ago, when Papyrus broke his promise to a young Gothic. The betrayal, the realization that he'd been lied to, manipulated by someone he thought he could trust. Some one he had trusted. It was the same.

"You lied to me," Gothic said. It didn't sounds like Gothic's voice anymore. "You knew I trusted you, and you lied to me."

Gothic summoned another bone, a small one, and pressed it against Lombok's neck. It dug in between the grooves, taking a large swath of hp with his intent to hurt. Gothic really, really wanted him to hurt.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Lombok brought his hands up, palms out, but didn't say anything.

"You're not even going to fight back? What, you don't think I'm willing to kill you? Oh, but I am, brother!" He spat the word like it tasted foul. "Have you already forgotten who I am? What I've done for the Masks? All those people I've hurt and killed to protect my family?" 

Gothic shook his head, and the smile on his face was unnatural. 

"And look where it's gotten me! Shuck is dead thanks to you! Plus, I'm going to lose dad too, because I won't let Papyrus live after what he's done to me. All of that, and now?" He laughed, a wild, broken sound. "I have to kill you too, because I can't trust you! And you wanna know the bitch of it? I don't want to. Even still, I really don't fucking want to do it!"

"Then don't," Lombok said softly.

"I have to!" The noise Gothic made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You see, if I let you live, I'll trust you again. I don't know how the fuck you do it, but everyone trusts you, whether we want to or not. So I know that someday I'll do it again, and you'll hurt me again! I won't be able to help it." He pulled his hand back, the bone in it changing to a small ax. "And I won't allow it. I'll give your Mercy to the scarecrow. I'm sure someone else will be glad to kill them for me. Goodbye, Lombok."


	2. Where it all goes wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jute, you dun fucked up. 
> 
> Hey, how many major characters do you think Gothic can kill in 4k words?

Everything was going exactly to plan.

 _Please! Please stop him!_ Burlap cried. Jute crossed his arms more tightly, silencing her. He had to, or he might do something foolish. Like listen to her.

"I'll give your mercy to the scarecrow, I'm sure someone else will be glad to kill them for me."

The brothers were too strong together. They had to be stopped.

He felt Burlap pull at his Soul, suddenly surging upwards to fight for control of their body. Caught by surprise, his hold slipped.

 _What? Stop!_ Jute snapped, but she only pulled harder, dragging him down by force. He stumbled back, his left side failing him. She was strong enough, he realized. If she was really determined, she could suppress him! There would be nothing he could do about it.

 _STOP!_ He yelled, sweeping down harshly with both hands, panic and anger rippling through his Soul.

Burlap hesitated. And then retreated.

Breathing heavily, Jute tried not to tremble as he stood back up. Why? What about this could possibly make her turn against him like this? Could this really be so important? He wanted to ask, but Gothic-

"Goodbye, Lombok."

There was a choking noise, and a small struggle as Lombok instinctively fought for his life. It didn't last long. Sorrow radiated from Burlap's part of their Soul, but Jute ignored it. This was for the best. It had to be.

"His final mercy was for you. Don't waste it," Gothic said to Jute, stumbling to the door like a drunk. Dust coated his chest and his eyelights were warped with red as the LV surged through him. He dropped his voice, talking only to himself. "The stupid, hopeless idiot. This'll be the last mercy I'm ever going to show. Useless, all of it."

He held the door open, and waited for Jute to leave. This was the most dangerous part. Gothic was the observant type, and Jute couldn't afford to show his hand too early. He wasn't worried about Burlap anymore, now that the worst was over she wouldn't interfere again. He walked to the door, feeling the electrical fob on his wrist with his fingertips. He pressed the button, and a short metal rod flipped out like a switch blade. It wasn't sharp, but it would shock.

He took a step towards Gothic. One. Two. Gothic's eyes narrowed. Three! Jute leapt forward, arm extended. Against the door, Gothic had nowhere to flee-

Jute struck wood. Gothic could teleport with a faster reaction speed than he'd accounted for. As he hurried to turn around, Jute pulled on his Aura. He'd seen the way Gothic reacted to it in the Judgment Hall, if he was quick it would give him time to run. Gothic began to laugh. Jute glanced at him, trying to see where the Aura would draw his eyes.

The laughter grew, a mad, broken sound. Gothic stared right into Jute's eyes.

"Darkness?" Gothic asked between laughs. "That's all you have left to scare me with?"

Darkness? He didn't understand. His Aura, specificaly, shows others their greatest fear. It was why Gothic had been so dangerous before, he'd feared nothing and saw nothing. What did darkness mean?

Idiot! He cursed himself. It didn't matter, he had to run-

And suddenly, Gothic moved. Jute was too late. Faster than what seemed possible, Gothic jumped right through the Aura, pinning Jute against the wall, the club wrist holding Jute's headsack to the wood. Claws curled around his neck, pulling at the fabric by his chin, ripping his stitches. One by one they popped, each one a bright spark of searing agony followed by a dreadful numbness. His face was splitting open.

Jute couldn't scream, so Gunny screamed for him. The world went dark as the seams between his eyes gave way. Still, Gothic continued to tear. Jute pushed against the wall, but Gothic was as immovable as stone. Once the damage reached the crown of his head, Gothic shifted his grip, grabbing the edge of the hood.

"You should have accepted his Mercy."

He yanked, hard, and the cloth tore to pieces, ripping from his head. Jute's body gave out from under him, and he slumped to the ground as Gothic stepped away.

"See, Lombok? This is what happens when you try to be a good guy." Gothic's voice was fading as he walked away. "It all ends in tears." The laughter started up again.

Jute couldn't move, couldn't see, but he could still feel. He felt Burlap, the broken pieces of her Soul drifting away from him as his grip on life failed. Gunny, poor Gunny, he could feel him there too, struggling to gather the pieces, to keep them both together as long as possible. It was likely the only reason he was still alive now.

Jute reached out again, trying to feel for Burlap. He tried to make her feel how sorry he was, how much he loved her. There was no response. She was gone. Gothic had killed her. He'd killed them both. But not Gunny.

Gothic didn't know about Gunny. There was still a chance, however slim. Run! Jute thought. You have to get away!

No! It was a feeling, nothing more. Refusal. Denial. Under it, anger.

Jute grasped for the anger. He knew anger. Survive! He commanded, the word echoing in his Soul. Grow strong!

Anguish.

The anger popped, vanishing like a soap bubble. Jute felt it twinkle around him, taking him with it.

Be… brave…

little…

Gunny….

\+ +

Still chuckling to himself, Gothic walked over to Grillby's. It wouldn't stop, rising up through him to spill out like overflow. It was all just too damn funny. That was all.

He pushed the door open, and the bar fell silent. Probably because of the insane monster laughing in the doorway. The thought only made him laugh harder as he walked up to the bar.

Grillby was as still as Gothic had ever seen him, his flames low to keep from flickering.

"Hey Grillby. I've had one seriously fucked up day," Gothic said with a smile. "Mind sending some food my way? I'm not picky what. Not that I ever am!" He added laughing again.

It seemed like no time at all when Grillby set a burger and fries down in front of him. Like a ravenous animal he dove into it, cramming fistfuls into his mouth. When a second was brought, unasked for, he devoured it too. Two beers and a mysteriously refreshing glass of water later, and he was back to full health.

Gothic smirked to himself. Health. He was the picture of health. Ha.

"Gothic," Grillby asked slowly. "What happened to you?"

His smile grew, and he waved his right wrist. "What? This lil' thing? Old news." His smile hurt his face. "But thanks for the reminder ol' pally chum buddy pal. I gotta go fucking kill Papyrus!"

Grillby flickered like a heavy breeze had just blown by as Gothic stood from the bar. "That's not a good idea. Why don't you just stay a while, and I'll let you run up a tab."

"You're a good friend," Gothic said, shaking his head and turning for the door. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Gothic, wait!" Grillby called after him, but Gothic ignored him. One of the rabbits had a salad. He just took it, tucking it into his inventory for later. "Somebody, stop him!"

No one did, and Gothic was out the door.

A quick shortcut took him to the dock. He had an idea.

"Tra la la," sang the River Person. "Would you like to ride in my boat?"

"Yeah," Gothic said, looking deep into the hood. It looked empty. Like him. He chuckled again. "Can you take me to Papyrus?"

The River Person nodded, turning their head to look downriver.

"Perfect." And Gothic climbed into the boat. He sat down and they were off. "So," he asked a minute later. "Got any last cryptic bullshit for me?"

"Tra la la," The River Person sang again, as predictable as the night. "She cries for you to stop, but the pages just keep turning."

Stop? He giggled at the thought. He's gone way too fucking far to just stop now. "Perfect. Useless, meaningless nonsense. Can always count on you, can't I?"

The River Person remained silent.

The boat pulled to a stop in Hotland. In the near distance, monsters were shouting.

"Thanks for the ride, buddy." Gothic said, hopping out of the boat with a skip in his step. Who knew finding Papyrus was gonna be so goddamn easy?

He reached the crowd where monsters had gathered around a cave in, frantically digging people out. Most of the diggers, he was surprised to see, were members of the Masks. The ones he would have called the good guys, if that term could be applied to anyone.

Without Lombok around anymore, he didn't think it could.

A woman's voice from above caught his attention. A smaller group was working on a ledge above. It called to him. He took a shortcut.

He saw Undyne right away, her blue scales stark against the orange and reds of the rocks around her. At her side, Lombok's friend, Delilah. They were pulling someone out of the rubble with the help of two more Masks.

They were pulling out Sans and Papyrus. Gothic took a step forward, and Papyrus looked up, straight at him. Gothic smiled widely at him, and launched bone after bone of his sharpest constructs right for his father's chest.

His aim was good. Papyrus was either too injured or too hemmed in to move. Gothic was leaning toward injured, what with the way Papyrus's eyesockets widened in shock before he crumbled to dust in Undyne's arms.

She looked around dumbly for a moment before catching sight of him, her mouth gaping open like... Well, like a fish.

Gothic took only a microsecond to consider her. He was never going to get a better chance.

Sharp bone in hand, he took a shortcut right up against her and jabbed it into the space between her neck and shoulder. He turned it blue, shortcuting away again as she screamed. He reappeared on the other side of Delilah, using her as a shield. Undyne ripped the bone out of her neck with a wet sound, doing nearly as much damage with the move as he had the first time, and was moving to look for him.

He moved the other way, teleporting behind her again, and repeating the action. He followed it up by summoning a long bone from the ground and up through her leg. She stumbled and he called up more, impaling her as she fell. A final choked cry, and she, too, was gone.

Gothic realized he was laughing again. He was at full health, but Stars, everything hurt. It was funny. It was hilarious!

Movement in his peripheral drew his attention, and he saw the bat girl coming for him. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear it over the laughter ringing in his skull. She charged at him and he took a teleport straight up, dropping on her back.

"You want to play?" Gothic asked, cackling. "Okay, let's fucking play!"

She bucked under him, nearly throwing him off. She was a lot stronger than she looked! Grabbing her Soul with Blue Magic he held her down while from below he began to summon dozens of tiny bones. They started small but the damage compounded, growing every second.

Movement caught his eye, a flash of red and white, right before he was tackled and knocked into the dirt.

It was Sans.

"Hey, Dad," Gothic said, feeling a real smile touch his eyes as Sans straddled his chest, cupping his face with both hands. Sans didn't say anything, his jaw working like he was trying to speak, but no sound came out as red tears poured down the sides of his face.

"One second, okay?" Gothic asked, brushing a thumb across his dad's cheek. "I'm kinda in the middle of something here." And he turned his head towards Delilah. 

He still had her soul gripped in blue magic, and he pulled, dragging her across the bones towards the ledge. They cut through her, and the momentum carried her dust to spray out over the edge as the damage became too much for her to handle.

Gothic couldn't stop giggling as his attention was redirected back to his dad. Sans grabbed his skull and pulled it into his chest. It was too bad Sans didn't have his jacket on, but this was good enough, Gothic supposed. Sans was shaking, his body wracked with the force of his voiceless sobbing and Gothic relaxed to enjoy it a moment more, basking in Sans's too tight grip around his skull.

But all good things must come to an end, and he eventually pryed himself free, moving Sans off and standing up. Sans remained where he was, kneeling on the ground, looking up with big, sad eyelights as he trembled. With a sigh, Gothic turned towards the two masks that had been helping. They were still here, watching but not interfering.

"Bernard," Gothic greeted the first monster, a massive Aaron covered in thick tattoos. "Ms. Ashford," he nodded toward the second, an older Yeti woman with fur so patchy she look like she had mange. "Since you didn't jump in, I take it you both know who I am?"

They exchanged a look. "You're... The plague doctor?" Asked Bernard.

Gothic smiled again. Rumors sure seemed to be flying a lot lately.

"Well," he laughed. "Saves me the trouble of introductions I suppose. I'm feeling lucky tonight," he said, grinning wildly. "Come on. What do you say the two of you help me kill the Tyrant King of ours?"

They exchanged another look, a little longer this time.

"Do we have a choice?" Asked Ms. Ashford.

"Not really," Gothic said, laughing. He gave them both a quick check. They bristled, but didn't try to stop it. "And what do you know? Looks like both of you are ready."

There was a tug on his arm, and he looked down to see Sans pleading with him with his eyes.

"Sorry Dad," he said, kneeling down to plant one last kiss on Sans's forehead. "But I got one last thing I need to do." He gently pried his dad's arm back off again and stepped away.

Walking between the two large monsters, he put an arm on each of their shoulders.

"Well guys? Hope you're ready, as this is going to get real busy, real fast."

And he took a shortcut.

\+ +

With one final cry Ms. Ashford stumbled away from Asgore, and fell to dust beside the pile that had been Bernard. Gothic cursed her. Why had she gotten so close? Asgore was slowing down, his wounds burning with livid magic but he just- wouldn't- DIE!

Then he saw it. Asgore's chestplate. Ms. Ashford had cracked it. 

Screaming, Gothic took a teleport right into Asgore's personal space, driving his dagger straight into the crack. Right into center of the Tyrant's wide chest. Asgore grabbed him with flaming paws, the fires searing into Gothic's shoulders, his back. It didn't matter, Gothic told himself as his hp plummeted. The salad had helped, but he'd known it wouldn't be enough. Taking on the King had always been a big fucking joke from the very beginning, hadn't it?

And then Asgore's expression changed.

Asgore began to dust.

The flames died as Asgore dissolved, his incredulous face softening and falling. Until all that was left was his Soul, still glowing with blue magic, Gothic's dagger driven through the center. Then it shattered, and Gothic staggered forward into the empty space.

Gothic hadn't been using blue magic.

Despite the guards still pounding on the door, the sudden silence was breathtaking. Gothic surveyed the room. At the damage. The piles of dust. The crown at his feet. He picked it up, tucking it into his inventory as he called, "Daddy. You came back for me."

Sans stepped out from behind the throne. His head was tipped to the ground, pain radiating from every line of his body. He gave a small nod.

Gothic gathered him up in his arms. Sans didn't resist. Sitting on the throne, Gothic tried to lean back, clenching his teeth against the pain of his burns.

There was a crash, and the door finally broke inward as five Royal Guards burst through.

"Asgore is dead," Gothic declared.

The guards inspected the piles of dust on the ground. "This one is Asgores!" Exclaimed one. They gathered around it, confirming for themselves. RG01, the only one Gothic recognized, turned to him. 

"What happened here?"

"I killed him. I believe that makes me the new King," he said, pulling the crown from his inventory and placing it on his head, over his flame damaged beanie. He looked at Sans. "Isn't that right, Judge?"

Hollow eyed, Sans nodded. "By the Powers of the Delta Rune, you have been Judged the new King." His voice was soft, but it rang through the throne room as well as if he'd shouted.

The guards looked between each other for a moment, and the dragonlike one stepped forward. "And what is your name, your majesty?"

"Call me…" Gothic paused. 

A new day. A new life. A new name.

"Call me Verratene," he finished. "Now, leave all of you. And bring me the Royal scientist."

"Yes my liege," the dragon said, clasping a hand across his chest. "All hail King Verratene."

"All hail King Verratene." The others repeated, saluting with a clatter. They departed, shutting the broken doors behind them as best as they could.

"Heh." Sans's laugh was dry. "Didn't know you spoke German."

"You can talk again? It's good to hear your voice."

Sans was silent for a minute. "Stuff wore off." He shifted, burying his face into the remains of Gothic's jacket, careful to not look at his son's face as he asked. "Yer… yer bro?"

"Dead." Gothic said simply.

"Oh," was Sans's only reply.

Gothic rested his cheekbone against the top of Sans's head. He let out a sigh. It wasn't everything he wanted, but it would be enough.

++

Sans didn't know how long he sat there, empty, damned, and heartbroken in Gothic's arms. It was like time had stopped, the universe itself broken by the weight of everything that had happened.

Gothic let out another sigh above him. "You're the only one I can trust, do you know that?"

Because you killed them all, didn't you? Sans didn't answer, keeping the thought to himself. 

"Everyone else has lied to me, tricked me. Betrayed me," Gothic continued. "But not you. You've always been good to me. You'd never betray me, would you?"

Sans shook his head. Gothic was all he had left. He ached with how empty he felt. It hurt so much.

"Good. And now, you'll be mine." He began to rub Sans's back. 

Sans soaked up the comfort. It felt good, and stars, he needed some comfort. Then Gothic stopped, bringing his hand around to gently grip Sans by the chin. 

"My Judge," Gothic breathed, tipping Sans's face up to his.

And then he kissed him.

Sans shuddered, but didn't resist. What would be the point?

Gothic moved his hand again, reaching under Sans's shirt, the sharp claws cold against his bones. Something like sense returned when Sans felt his magic stir in his pelvis, his body reacting to the stimuli and intent without Sans's conscious decision. As if strengthened by the recognition, he felt it shape and settle between his legs.

That was wrong. Sans didn't want that. He broke the kiss, he had to make gothic see reason! He looked up- 

And the judge trembled before the sins in his Kings eyes. It cut through his sorrow, replacing it with fear. 

"K-kid," Sans said, turning his face away, "come on, don't… don't do this."

"It'll be good," Gothic purred, and his hand began to roam south. He moved to press his teeth against the side of Sans's neck. "Just let me have you. There's no one else to keep you away from me now. Just be mine."

His tongue licked out, tasting the bones. Sans couldn't move, paralyzed even as Gothic's claws reached into his shorts. This couldn't be happening. 

When Gothic brushed against Sans's pubic symphysis, he felt the magic gathered there.

"Gothic, please," Sans said, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He knew Gothic wasn't going to take no for an answer, but he had to try. "I- I don't wanna do this."

This time, as Gothic forced his mouth to Sans's, all traces of gentleness were gone, leaving only sharp hunger. His tongue pushed its way through Sans's teeth, coaxing his own tongue to form. Sans choked, attempting to push away again, but Gothic held on, his grip too strong. Unless Sans was going to pull an attack on him, on his own son, Sans wasn't going anywhere. And that was a line he could never cross. Would never cross. 

Sans gave a hiccuping cry into Gothic's teeth as a finger was slipped into his formed entrance. He twisted, trying to pull free to escape the invading digit but Gothic only grabbed him tighter, a warning.

"I love you," Gothic whispered. "Don't you love me?"

Sans gave a choke sob, and nodded. Of course he did, just... not like this. Gothic let out a guttural sigh, and pulled down Sans shorts, tugging them free to fall to the ground. 

"Please… St-stars, Gothic, please don't."

"Say it," Gothic ordered, moving Sans to straddle his hips. Sans couldn't stop him. 

Sans shook his head, unable to keep from trembling as Gothic pressed himself up against Sans's folds. Sans closed his eyes.

"I want to hear you say it," Gothic said, as he slowly began to push himself into Sans. "I love you. Say it. I love you, I love you." 

Sans tried to shake his head again but Gothic grabbed him by the back of the skull, holding him still.

"Open your eyes, Sans." Gothic demanded. "Do it!"

He did.

"Tell me you love me." 

"I-, I-," Sans stuttered, unable to speak, unable to breathe as he looked into Gothic's once beloved violet eyelights, now ringed with that horrible, terrible red. The LV. It was the LV doing this to him, not Gothic.

"I love you." Gothic murmured softly, a terrifying contrast to the claws digging in behind Sans's skull.

"I- I love you," Sans finally repeated back, and Gothic groaned with pleasure, pushing all the way into him.

It burned. Sans wasn't nearly ready for this.

Sans couldn't stop his tears as Gothic fucked up into him, again and again. Gothic didn't notice, didn't care. There was nothing Sans could do as he heard Gothic's breathing turn ragged, his grip tightening as he got closer. Sans gave up. Just like he always did.

There was no escaping it. Gothic loved him. And Stars save him that even still, Sans loved him. He couldn't help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 major, 2 minor, and destroyed the future of 2 more. Wtg Gothic, I'm scared of my own character.


End file.
